Harry Potter and the Justification for Peeing Places
by Wetwisher
Summary: Harry potter pees everywhere except the toilet
1. Year 1

Harry Potter had a terrible secret.

It wasn't something he ever thought much about before finding out that he was a wizard. His very first night at Hogwarts though proved he had something to worry about, lest he become hated here too.

It was the middle of the night when Harry awoke, the pressure in his bladder demanding release. Half asleep he shoved his hand into his pants, pulled out his cock, aimed vaguely at his feet, and peed.

Warm wetness pooled around his heels and sank into the sheets and mattress. It was a familiar sensation and he quickly fell back to sleep, unmindful of the cooling piss.

It wasn't until the morning, when he woke up and realized where he was, that the reality of his situation hit him. He wasn't locked in a cupboard, unable to access a toilet; he was in the boys dorm, mere yards from the bathroom. And he had pissed the end of his bed instead of using it. What would Ron think?

He rearranged his sheets to hide the wetness before opening the bed curtain and could only hope that no one noticed.

The next night he forgot again. When his bladder woke him he pulled himself up, pulled out his cock, scooted towards the end of the bed, and pissed into the edge of the mattress. It was a better night, as the urine soaked into the further end of the bed that didn't touch his feet. But he'd still pissed the bed.

That day Seamous mentioned a funny smell.

It was his third night in Griffindor tower that he managed to remember that he wasn't locked in a cupboard. He woke up and stumbled into the bathroom. The walk and the cold tile woke him entirely from his half sleeping state. The splashing of urine against the urinal porcelain sounded impossibly loud. He couldn't fall back asleep for hours.

The fourth night was much the same.

And the fifth.

And the sixth.

And the seventh.

And every night for nearly a month. He kept thinking he'd get used to it, but night after night the trek to the loo left him awake and unrested.

Then one night after an exhausting day and knowing he'd be having Potions first thing in the morning, Harry awoke, climbed out of bed, and stood there half conscience, debating his options. He could go to the toilet with its ice cold floors... or crawl back into the warm sheets and pee at the end of his bed.

The only problem was the smell. He didn't want it traced back to him. Lord knew his aunt and uncle had berated him for being such a filthy pig when he couldn't hold it, and he had no reason to believe the wizards would be any different. They, unlike his aunt and uncle, would have good reason to be disgusted, too, considering here he actually did have access to the toilet.

He stumbled a few steps across the carpet, thinking: the problem really was those cold tiles. He wished he could pee from the doorway, without leaving the carpet. And then a stroke of genious struck.

If he could pee around the entire dorm, the smell would be minimal. Or at least distributed. Unless he was caught, it wouldn't be traced back to him. The carpet would be just as absorbent as his mattress. Eleven year old Harry was very proud of this solution.

Without further ado he pulled his cock from his pajamas and shot a spritz of urine across the carpet. He promptly took a couple steps and shot out another spritz. Another step, another spritz. He continued this way, shuffling across the carpet in the boys dorm and sprinkling the carpet with his cock until his bladder was empty. He crawled back into bed and slept soundly.

For a couple weeks this became the new routine. Without stepping foot on the cold bathroom tile, he found returning to sleep easy. Then one night before he had even pulled out his cock, Dean Thomas crawled out of his bed and startled, seeing Harry there in the dark.

"What are you doing?" He'd asked.

"Going back to bed," Harry had replied quickly, "I'd just been up to use the loo."

He quickly retreated to his bed and listened as Dean himself went to the loo, returned, and crawled back into his own bed.

He'd had to pee at the end of his own bed again that night, and he slept uneasily.

He was nervous after that, about being caught.

The next night he tried just peeing quicker, scuttling around cock in hand with a solid stream of urine pattering out onto the carpet. And it _was_ a patter - such a full stream from that high up was not silent. His heart was pounding as he raced back into his bed. Thankfully no one seemed to notice.

The next morning stripes of dampness were still discernible. Ron stepped in one spot, though he didn't know what it was and assumed someone had spilled their water. It was more than enough to scare Harry into not doing it that way again.

The night after that Harry had a new idea. He slipped out of bed and sank to his knees to investigate the underside of the bed. He thought it was probably low enough that a wet spot wouldn't be noticed. He reached into his pajamas, pulled out his cock, aimed for the center of the underside of the bed, and emptied his bladder.

It was a success. The splashing was minimal as the carpet eagerly soaked up the piss, and the dark wet patch stayed nicely hidden under the bed. That day there was no suspicion.

The next night when Harry went to repeat the process, he realized the wet patch from the night before was still rather prominent. Not to mention this would still center the smell on his bed. He shuffled over to Ron's bed instead. Cock out, aim, piss. A new puddle formed under his best mate's bed.

The next night, Seamus. The night after that, Neville. Then Dean. The sixth night was back to his own bed. That began the rota.

For weeks this new pattern worked brilliantly. Harry would stumble out of bed, sink to his knees, piss under his friends' beds, and stumble back to bed. It was much quicker and more comfortable than shuffling around a spurt at a time, exposed for anyone to notice.

So of course he was overdue for someone to almost catch him. Harry was on his knees beside Dean's bed, cock in hand, when Seamus stirred in the bed just beside that. Panicked, Harry fell to the ground fully and shimmied under the bed, Dean still sleeping just above him.

Seamus padded into the bathroom and Harry waited, cock out, belly to the floor, under the bed, with a growing sense of urgency but too much fear to risk fleeing. The longer he waited the more he realized he HAD to piss.

And then it occurred to him that this was where he'd planned to empty his bladder anyway. Quietly as possible he shimmied his shirt up and his pants down. He laid there with his bare skin pressed to lush carpet for a long time.

Somehow this felt different. This wasn't point and aim and don't think about what you're doing - this felt like something deliberate. This felt intimate. Like peeing in his own pants, on purpose. And his cock didn't seem to want to let him do it.

Harry _pushed_. The tiniest dribble escaped and sank into the carpet. He pushed again and more came out, warmth blossoming around his cock. It felt pleasant, actually. He pushed again, this time continuing to push for much longer. He peed directly into the carpet, faster than it could soak in. He felt the warmth pool and grow around his nether regions. When he finally stopped, it quickly soaked in, but the warmth remained, and was surprisingly pleasant, considering how _un_ comfortable the same sensation had always been near his feet.

Just then Seamus reappeared from the bathroom. Harry pushed again, wringing out the last of his urine as he watched Seamus return to bed. Seamus never suspected a thing. As the piss began to cool Harry decided Seamus was likely sleeping again and returned to his own bed.

He couldn't resist climbing all the way under Neville's bed to pee into the carpet the night after that.

This routine lasted the remainder of Harry's first year.


	2. Summer

The summer between first and second year was bizarre for Harry. The Dursleys gave him Dudley's second bedroom which put Harry right across the hall from Dudley's bathroom with its electrically heated floors.

For a while he used the toilet like a normal boy. Not that it was easy. He missed Hogwarts, and somehow his under bed peeing had become tied to that.

He'd wake in the night desiring nothing more than to crawl under Seamus's or Neville's bed and push and push and push all his urine out into their carpets. With no letters from his friends he was missing them and his routine even worse.

But at the same time, to give in would be to let Dudley win. His cousin had taken to exaggerating a sniff and expressing his shock that filthy pig Harry hadn't soiled his new room yet, tossing around estimations for how much longer it'd be before Harry's room stank like his cupboard. So Harry used the toilet. For a while.

It was about two weeks into summer when he gave in anyway. He had drunk a lot of water that day and didn't expect that his urine would cause a smell, especially not if he only did it this once. He couldn't pee under his friends' beds, but he could pee under his own. Harry crawled under the bed to relieve himself. That night he slept very soundly.

For a couple nights proceeding that he resisted the urge to do it again, for fear of the smell. The third night he was awake and bemoaning the lack of other beds to spread the smell to when it struck him that under a bed wasn't the only option. He'd sprinkled across the carpets prior to the beds and there was nothing stopping him from doing the same here. In fact, if he did all his daytime pees around the house, he could probably get away with nighttime ones under the bed without an obvious difference in smell.

This began operation scent marking. It was harder than he'd expected to try and sprinkle down the hall or in his aunt and uncle's room during the day, knowing that if they decided to come up the stairs he might not have time to hide his prick before they caught him.

The real fun was to be had when they went out. Sundays became his favorite for how predictable they were. He didn't dare risk the downstairs when they were home, but when they were out it was more than fair game.

Harry awoke bright and early on Sunday. The second the Dursleys had closed the door behind them, it was time to start. Harry unzipped, pulled out his cock, and went straight to Dudley's bedroom. He slipped his prick between two teddy bears and injected his morning piss into the expansive pile of Dudley's old stuffed animals as he watched the family vehicle pull out of the yard to go to church.

He left his cock out. Next was a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water, the first of many. He sat on the couch to watch television for roughly half an hour before he felt enough pressure to pee again. This time his prick was slipped between the couch cushions and he dribbled out what he could there.

More water. More waiting. More wetting. Harry left urine in his aunt and uncle's closet, the carpet under their and Dudley's beds, the carpet under several pieces of furniture downstairs, and was letting out tiny spritzes of pee onto the end of Uncle Vernon's bed itself when they returned home. He quickly finished up in the back of Vernon's winter jumper drawer and retreated to his room, quickly tucking his cock away.

All was as well as could be, were it not for the lack of communication from his friends. And then Dobby showed up and ruined everything.

Harry had to pee out the window until the Weasleys rescued him.


	3. Year 2

Harry couldn't have been happier to return to Hogwarts, and his routine. But the summer had made him realize that even spread out, it was only a matter of time before the boys started to notice their entire dorm smelled funny.

One night he woke up having to go far worse than usual. He was pretty sure he'd forgotten to go before bed. Instead of climbing under his own bed though, as the rota said he was due, he pulled the invisibility cloak on and snuck out of the dorms and into the common room.

Deciding where to empty himself here was difficult. Harry was certain he was full enough for any puddle he left to be visible under any of the furniture. He danced a little as the pressure grew stronger. A sudden spike of it had him quickly shoving his hand down his trousers to grip the end of his prick, to keep from leaking.

He failed.

His cock released a spritz of urine into his pants, and didn't stop. He whipped it out, startled. He squeezed tighter but his prick continued dribbling much without his consent, leaking onto the rug in front of the fireplace. He couldn't see anywhere good to go. He couldn't get it to stop and the stream was growing heavier. He could hear it pattering onto the ground.

Groaning, he realized it was already too late any he'd leave a trail even if he found a place to hobble to. He gave in and watched raptly as piss arced forcefully out the tip of his cock and was swallowed by the greedy darkening cloth beneath him.

There would be no hiding this evidence. He pushed, pissing as hard as he could into the growing puddle on the rug just to get it over with. By the time he was done and shaking out the final drops, the entirety of the rug and a part of carpet past it was dark and soaking wet. He tucked away his cock and hurried back to bed. The most he could do was hope nobody knew it was him.

He slept uneasily.

The next morning he walked into the common room and could smell it. The fire must have baked the smell in as the urine dried, spreading it around the room.

Harry knew he'd made a face because Ron nodded understandingly. "I know Mate. One of the girls must have spilled an entire bottle of perfume but nobody will fess up," he said.

Harry was confused. "Perfume?"

"Yeah don't you smell it?" Ron laughed and went to join Hermione.

Harry had never expected piss to be confused with perfume. That wasn't to say he wasn't grateful for the misunderstanding. He wandered as close to the fire as he dared. The rug looked to have dried by the fire but the carpet on the side and probably under it was still soggy. He doubted he'd be so lucky again. He vowed to be more careful.

As the nights wore on Harry continued his excursions into the common room to empty his bladder. It wouldn't be too long before everyone went noseblind. He was simply much more careful than before. He would piss a bit behind a shelf, a bit under loveseat cusions, a bit in potted plants et cetera.

He even had a ready made excuse for if he was caught out of bed. The voice in the walls would almost have been welcome if what they were saying wasn't so terrifying.

And then it got Hermione.

Her loss was poignant, and he dwelled on it especially at night. Only a few days after her petrification Harry was feeling her loss so sharply that he finally risked sneaking into the girls dorms.

Finding Hermione's bed was easy. It was the only four poster whose curtains were not drawn, and the bed was mostly made yet still managed to look a mess by the few books strewn across it. It looked like she'd tossed them there, fully intending to come back and get them. But she'd not made it back.

Harry's bladder reminded him why he was there. He had to relieve himself and in some strange way he wanted to mark Hermione as his like he had all his male friends. He pulled up the edge of the invisibility cloak and slotted his cock between her sheets and the mattress. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting the warm wet heat escape into the cloth around him.

When he was finished he realized that now he'd have to add the undersides of the girls' beds to his rota. It wasn't a risk he particularly wanted to take but he didn't want to cause trouble for Hermione by only causing scent around her bed. With additional beds on the rota, Harry stopped bothering with the common room. The new pattern persisted for most of the remainder of the year.

When Harry finally made it into the Chamber, once the basalisk and Riddle were both dead, Harry whipped out his prick and pissed both on the diary and the snake. He had conquered them both and the need to mark them was so strong that he'd forgotten to worry how Ginny might react.

He tucked himself away and glanced up to see a fierce look upon her face. Contrary to his fears she seemed to greatly approve. She held out her arms and he helped her up. She leaned heavily on him as she snorted and spat on the pissy diary for good measure, nodding to herself. It was over.

And so was Harry's routine shortly after. Once Hermione was back, Harry didn't feel compelled to sneak into the girls dorms at night any more. He was very glad to have her back... if only she'd been able to return earlier. It wasn't long before it was time to return to the Dursley's.


	4. Summer 2

Harry's second summer with a bedroom went much like his first: most days he tried to sprinkle just enough piss around the upstairs carpets to go unnoticed, most nights he emptied himself under his bed or in the closet, whichever was drier, and most Sundays were a free for all where he focused on the downstairs and other bedrooms.

As before, Sundays were his favorite. The Dursleys certainly weren't any nicer to him, so Sundays when he could focus on uriniating on their things, knowing how much they would hate it, felt like a much deserved revenge.

One Sunday after Dudley and his gang had beaten Harry the day before, Harry tried something a little risky, but very satisfying. He stripped completely naked, and then put on all of the cloths in Dudley's second wardrobe. That wardrobe held Dudley's good clothes that he only wore on Sundays for church. He probably would not be looking in the wardrobe again until the following week.

Harry wore all of the clothes layered one atop the other. There were probably twenty outfits he was wearing all at once. They were easy to layer because of how roomy they were on Harry's skinny frame compared to his chunky cousin. They added a lot of fluffy cushioning and made Harry feel like he had to waddle around like a toddler in order to move. He thought that was pretty ironic considering his plan.

Harry waddled to Dudley's closet, moved the shoe rack out of his way, and sat in his 20 pairs of Dudley's trousers on the carpet.

He hadn't peed for the whole night, saving it for today instead and hoping it would be particularly yellow and smelly. However, trying to pee in his trousers without taking his prick out was harder than he expected. Just like his first time climbing under a bed to piss, his body did not want to obey.

After a few minutes of pushing he strained hard enough to feel warmth suddenly blossom and drip down to his balls. The next spurt of urine came easier despite the first layer of cloth clinging wetly to remind him it was there. The third was easier still and then the familiar heat was all around his groin and felt just like when he pissed into the carpets.

He let the rest of his morning pee flow easily through one layer of trousers into the next and the next, through the entire stack of trousers, making them soggy and heavy with wetness. He let out a deep sigh as he emptied himself.

When he was done, he strained again one last time to try and get the last few drops out. After a final spurt, Harry wiggled back and fourth against the closet carpeting in the sodden trousers just to hear the juicy squishing. There was a lot of urine trapped in the clothes, hugging his cock and butt. He was quite satisfied with himself.

Peeling himself back out of the trousers was less pleasant and he quickly discovered he would have to wring them all out before he folded them back up and hid them away or else they would never be dry in time for next Sunday. To top it off, so much of him was damp that he felt sticky and had to take a shower as well. Cleaning up, as it were, was unpleasant.

As glad as he was for having done it, Harry knew he wouldn't do that particular thing again.

Things returned to normal.

And then they brought home Marge.

Marge was somehow even worse than the rest of the family. She was meaner, and incredibly watchful of him - especially when he was near her room. Unlike everyone else who tried their hardest to ignore him, she wanted to know where he was and what he was doing at all times.

The one, very minor, positive to her presence were the dogs, who very blatantly pissed puddles into the carpet. It allowed Harry to occasionally get away with doing the same, and blaming it on the dogs.

Of course Vernon was livid with the filthy beasts, Patunia seemed faint with disgust, and Dudley thought it was funny.

Marge was aghast and insisted her dogs knew better, and that it simply must be Harry's fault somehow. If only she knew how right she was.

Of course Harry was made to clean it up. He hated the cleaning and the arcid smell of dog piss was terrible, so it wasn't much of an upside.

It was only a matter of time before she got the better of him and he accidentally blew her up, saw a massive dog, discovered the knight bus while fleeing, and found himself at the Leaky.


End file.
